


Quentin Lance Imagines

by andromedaflynn



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Imagines, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedaflynn/pseuds/andromedaflynn
Summary: A collection of Quentin Lance imagines I have written over the years. Previously posted on tumblr under thefastarrow.





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: Finding out how dangerous Quentin's life really is and him wanting to keep you safe from it all, no matter the cost.

The room was cold and dark, a small part of your mind knew that you ought to have done something about those two facts some hours ago, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move from the couch. So there you sat, curled up against the arm of the couch staring blankly into the room. Your thoughts seemed to overwhelm you, but perhaps not as they ought to have.

The past week had gone by like a blur, and yet, in the moment, it had seemed so very much longer. But now, sitting safely in your apartment, it all seemed like some odd dream; no, a nightmare. A cold breeze hit you and you were thrown back to the icy chill that had captured you as Damien Darhk held you in his grasp, tortured you. The pain, the fear, but nothing was worse than the knowledge, the knowledge that he could do  _so much more._

A shudder ran down your spine at the thought. But no, you were safe now. Your thoughts went back to that moment, for what must have been the millionth time in the last day. Quentin Lance, your Quentin. The determination in his eyes as he took down those in his way, the inexplicable joy that took over his entire being upon finding you. He came for you, just as you knew he always would, but he wasn’t alone.

The Green Arrow along with three other masked individuals were at his side, bringing down the heinous men who had captured you with ease.

And there it was, the thought that had plagued you these past 24 hours. Quentin knew the Green Arrow. More than that, he worked with him. Certainly, you knew upon entering your relationship that things would be complicated, how could they not be? He was the Captain of police, a divorced father to two daughters, one of whom was dead. And while you had come to accept that, you weren’t entirely sure you could accept this.

He was doing what he thought was right, and you couldn’t love him any more than you already did for that fact, but he was putting himself in danger, your kidnapping was more than proof of that. A small part of your mind tried to remind you that you should be more worried for your own personal welfare, particularly when it was more than obvious that those who opposed the Green Arrow were more than happy to use you as bait.

Shaking your head you forced the thought from your mind. This wasn’t about you, at least, not in that way. This was about Quentin. He wasn’t safe. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you at the thought, of course he wasn’t, but with his career he never would be.

The sound of a key in your door shook you from your thoughts as your gaze settled on the dark entry to your apartment. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you waited for the only other person to have a key to your home to enter.

Stopping at the doorway, Quentin stares at you in silence. His mouths falls open ever so slightly as he stands there, thoughts running through his head. Eventually he moves ever so slowly towards you, throwing his keys carelessly into the bowl as he does so. “You’re here” he states simply, standing across from you, relief flowing off him as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Where else would I be?” you ask, brow furrowing in confusion. Had he thought something had happened again?

“I just- I figured after everything…” he began, unsure of what to say as he finally sits opposite you.

“You thought I’d leave?” the question left your lips with shock and you couldn’t help but wonder why. It was a perfectly legitimate thought, after everything you had gone through the last few days, leaving him, leaving Star City would be nothing but logical. And yet, while the fears ran through your mind, you simply couldn’t fathom it.

“You weren’t answering your phone. I, uh, may have had your cell traced. When it I found out it was off, I just assumed…” he trailed off, a sad glint in his eyes as he looked at you. There it was, that fear, that worry. It was amazing how things had changed over the past 24 hours between the two of you. It was as if you no longer needed him to explain those looks, you knew them all to well.

Grabbing your phone off the coffee table that sat between you both you attempted to turn on the screen only to be met by a blank screen. “Oops” you speak quietly, realising your mistake as your phone sits there completely flat in your hands.

A soft chuckle reached your ears, causing you to look across at your exhausted boyfriend. The stress of the past week was more than evident as you took in his features carefully. His gaze was settled on the floor, shoulders sagged, but throughout it all a small smile remained upon his lips, bringing one of your own to yours. It wasn’t until he looked up that it all changed.

His smile fell quickly, a look of sad acceptance in his eyes as he took his time, almost drinking you in. He had something to say, that much was obvious. But what was equally obvious was that it would not be something you wanted to hear.

“Y/N” he drawled out slowly, sadness flowing off him.

“Quentin?” you respond, trying desperately to bring back that smile you loved.

Shaking his head he stood, beginning to pace. “Y/N, this wasn’t meant to happen…”

“No shit” you reply, still searching for even a flicker of a smile. Thankfully you were rewarded for your efforts, but only for a second before it slipped from your grasp once more.

“This, this Darhk, he’s dangerous” he stopped, finally looking at you.

“Really?” you reply with a raised eyebrow. You were more than aware of the dangers Darhk held, but where this was going… your stomach tossed in protest, knowing it couldn’t be good.

“This is serious Y/N” he sighed. “You, you shouldn’t be here. You’re in danger, you’re in danger because of me.”

“And?” the question left your lips so easily, as if you were having a trivial conversation, not one that hung around life and death.

“I- I want you to go to Coast City” he sighed. “There are plenty of good jobs there, you can start afresh.”

“Wait” you stop him, standing up, “you really want me to leave?”

“You were almost killed, Y/N!” Quentin yelled, hands flying. 

“I’m more than aware of that, Quentin!” you reply, anger brewing inside of you as you see where this is going.

“You shouldn’t be anywhere near me, this place, any of it. You deserve to be safe, to be happy…”

The words cut you to the core. You had expected him to break your heart, to tell you he didn’t love you anymore, anything to get you to go to safety, but the thought that you weren’t happy? No. That wouldn’t do.

“Quentin… you start slowly, guiding him back to the chair, your hands grasping his. “You’re right” you sigh. He visably deflates at your words, unable to watch the inevitable happen, he closes his eyes, desperate to cover the tears that sat there.

“You’re right” you repeat softly, taking his face in the palm of your hand. “This place isn’t safe, and Darhk is dangerous. But you’re also wrong.”

His eyes fly open, confusion evident as he searches your face for a clue of what you might mean.

With a deep sigh you squat in front of him, making yourself level with him. “It might be safer in Coast City, and there may be plenty of jobs there, but I would not be happy there.”

“Y/N” he speaks softly this time, desperately, pleading with you.

“No, Quentin. Now it’s my turn” you shake your head. “In the last week I have learnt a lot. I have learnt just how much evil there is in this city, how much hatred, how much danger. But I have also learnt how much good there is. You, Oliver, the whole team. I knew the Green Arrow was out there, but now, now I know who he is, who they all are. Now I know just how badly these people are willing to fight for the people of this city, how badly  _you’re_  willing to fight. If you think for one second that I am not going to fight for you when you fight for everyone else, you don’t know me half as well as you think you do.”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Quentin sighs, rubbing his temple as he comes to accept what you’ve said.

“Not a chance in hell” you grin back. “Besides, we never got to have our date on Thursday, and if you think I’m missing out on the opportunity to watch you make pasta…”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: passing out candy to trick or treaters with Quentin

The doorbell to your apartment rang with a sudden urgency, a clear indicator of the excitement held within those on the other side of the door. With surprising enthusiasm and energy, particularly after how exhausted he had claimed to be after coming home from work, Quentin leapt to his feet, holding out a hand to pull you from the couch.

“Is there a reason we both have to go?” you groan dramatically, not wanting to leave your comfortable spot.

“It’s Halloween,” Quentin replies, as if that was an answer in and of itself.

Barely suppressing the amused smile that was inching its way onto your lips at just how cheerful he had become at the mere thought of trick or treaters, you sigh, giving him a speculative look in return. “And children need two people to give them candy now, is that it?”

“If you don’t come you might miss something” he counters, his voice full of light hearted wonder as he throws an eager glance towards the door.

“Such as?” you ask, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“An adorable kid, a cute costume…” he offers with a shrug.

“Pretty sure my boyfriend just turned into an adorable kid,” you laugh, shaking your head at the enthusiastic cop in front of you.

Hearty laughter fills your ears in return, but he doesn’t retract his hand.

“Come on, give some kids some candy, you know you want to,” Quentin attempts once more, giving you a knowing look.

“Fine,” you groan sarcastically. “But I’m taking a piece for myself, consider it payment.”

“Yes ma’am!”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: Having to booby trap the Christmas presents to keep an overly eager Quentin away from them

A piercing sound broke the gentle quietness of the still morning, harshly waking you a good two hours before your alarm was set to go off.

Your eyes flew open as you quickly sat up, readying yourself for what ever intruder may have broken in, as realisation kicked in. The alarm was coming not from your security system, but your phone. With a heavy sigh you turn the sharp noise off, glancing towards the empty spot next to you with resignation.

“Quentin Larry Lance!” you yell, your voice exhausted as you call into the dark. “Leave those bloody presents alone and come back to bed.”

Only a moment later a sulking figure makes its way through the doorway to your room, the outline stooped slightly in guilt. “You set up an alarm?” Quentin asks softly, a mixture of disbelief and shame.

“Actually, I got Felicity to do it,” you sigh, falling back into your pillows happily. “Because apparently my idiot of a boyfriend can’t wait until Christmas day to open his presents.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N,” Quentin pleads, sitting on the side of the bed as he turns to look at your unamused frown. “Just let me open one.”

“You are such a child,” you groan, pulling a pillow to cover your face as you attempt to let out your frustrations into it.

“Just one,” he prompts, a smile growing on his lips as he watches your resolve fade ever so slightly.

“Fine, here’s the deal,” you reply, throwing his pillow at him. “Either you don’t touch those presents, or you don’t get to touch me. At all. No hugs, no kisses, nothing. Choose wisely, Lance.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine: Spending Christmas morning with Quentin, Sara and Laurel

To say you were nervous would be a massive understatement. In fact, the urge to run had almost taken over you more times than you could count. But somehow, despite the almost paralysing fear, you found yourself standing out the front of Quentin’s door, your hand still as you attempt to get the courage together to knock.

Thoughts were running through your mind faster than you could even conceive, as you stood perfectly still, simply letting time pass you by. Perhaps you could send him a text, say something had come up and simply bolt; heck, the sound you could only assume to be Laurel and Sara fighting from within the apartment certainly made that option more than somewhat appealing. But you had agreed to go, you had allowed Quentin’s begging to pull at your heartstrings more than you cared to admit, and as terrified as you were of finally meeting his beloved daughters, you couldn’t go back on that promise.

“Alright already!” a familiar voice calls from within the apartment, a vain attempt to quash the heated discussion you can barely hear. “Just, just don’t break anything, I’m going to call Y/N.”

That should have jolted you into action, spurred you forwards to finally rap your knuckles against the hard wooden door in front of you, but all you could manage was a slight smile at that. You were late, but then, standing outside mentally debating what to do for ten minutes had a tendency to bring such an outcome. But that wasn’t what had caught your attention. No, it was the tone with which Quentin had said he was going to call you, somewhere between worried and desperate, as if he weren’t annoyed about your tardiness, but rather concerned about what had you being uncharacteristically late.

Suddenly, and without warning, the door in front of you was pulled open, Quentin making ready to walk through it, his head lowered to face his phone, as he took a step towards you, stopping mere millimetres away as your shoes caught the corner of his eyes.

“There you are,” Quentin greets you, his words rushing out in a quick exhalation as a relieved smile takes over his features.

“Here I am,” you agree, a nervous smile growing on your lips as you do your best to appear in control of your emotions, ignoring the bubbling anxiety that gnaws at your stomach.

“You alright?” Quentin asks, his voice slightly higher than usual as he notices the struggle in your voice.

Shaking your head slightly in an attempt to gain some form of confidence, you let your eyes meet his for the first time, the concern in his gaze bringing a true smile to your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Would it be terribly cliche if I were to say I’m nervous as hell?” you ask softly, making sure the women in the apartment have no chance of hearing you.

A low chuckle comes from Quentin as he gently places his hands on your hips, drawing you in towards him in a comforting manner. “Y/N, I have two girls in there who both spend their nights beating up bad guys. I’m bloody terrified.”

Laughing slightly at his words, you hit his chest softly with the back of your hand. “Well,  _that_  isn’t helping.”

“You’ll be fine,” he encourages, lowering himself to place a slow and tender kiss against your lips before he continues. “Besides, if they don’t like you, we can always run off to Vegas.”


End file.
